‘Taillefer - ’
‘Is that the esquire’s name?’ He pretended to puzzle over it.
‘It is,’ Hildegard’s voice sharpened. ‘The evidence suggests that he was murdered by someone crossing the bridge that night.’
‘Some barbarous cut-throat, a man with no soul, a being willing to barter a finely worked dagger, a glory of the artisan’s skill, for mere gold, and in an inn of all places, or so I’m told.’
‘Or maybe it was someone else entirely.’
‘Really?’ He expressed a show of interest. ‘Who, pray?’
‘His identity is at present unknown but be assured, it will be revealed very soon.’
‘Oh, I love revelations! And this will no doubt be due to your dogged tenacity, domina?’ His insult was veiled but Hildegard would have ignored it anyway. No time for pettiness now.
‘If I may persist in my doggedness, your eminence, did you happen to pause to offer a prayer to St Nicolas on the way across the bridge?’
‘Pshaw! What do you think, boys? Would I ever stop at the river chapel? A hole for travellers, mendicants and pilgrims to sweat out their prayers?’ There was instant laughter, rather high, somewhat tinkling.
‘Domina, may I remind you that in any case it was a night of atrocious weather? Anyone but a madman would want to cross to their own property as soon as possible. I am not made for harsh conditions, my dear.’
‘That is all I wished to know, your eminence. You saw no-one.’
‘I saw no-one. What’s more my litter was nearly pitched into the river and I had to keep the blind down as the sight of nature’s violence was too distressing. Now, I beg of you, stay a moment. Let us offer you something to brighten the austerity of your days.’
**
Patronised twice over, the first, obscurely, by Hubert, and now by Bellefort, Hildegard wondered why she had pitched herself into this web.
London beckoned.
Momentous events were taking place at Westminster and she was trapped in the inconsequential affairs of a distant backwater where corruption was the norm. Please, God and all the saints, let me go home. No-one would thank her for her efforts. For her dogged persistence. Go. Go back, an inner voice urged.
**
Then something she could not have foreseen happened. As she was leaving the Tinel after breaking her fast on the next morning, after a restless night with thoughts churning fruitlessly round in her dreams, a friar detached himself from the crowd and fell into step beside her.
‘Domina, pray forgive me. I have something to say to you.’
Thinking it was connected to her inquiries she halted to hear what he had to tell her.
‘It is this. It has not escaped my notice that you are an intimate of Abbot de Courcy. I beseech you, find some way of persuading him to vacate the palace for a day or two.’
She stared at him.
‘I can see this is a shock to your understanding. Plots are afoot. He is in danger. Persuade him to leave.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Of course not. How could you. I beg you to put your trust in me. Make sure he is absent from the palace for a few days until the danger is past.’
‘But what sort of danger?’
‘Danger to his life, domina.’
With that the friar melted into the crowd. She tried to follow but he disappeared round a corner and when she managed to pick her way after him the cloister was empty.
**
‘And you expect me to take fright at this and run away?’
‘Of course not. I’m only telling you because I feel I should pass it on and let you make up your own mind. I knew you’d make light of it. But at least you’re warned.’
Hubert slipped his arm in hers. ‘I think I should take this seriously, Hildegard. Let’s go away for a few days. Just you and me. We can take the hawks and have a fine time, hunting and exploring the countryside.’
‘Hubert.’
‘Come on, it may save my life. You heard what the friar said.’
‘This is ridiculous! You’ve just said you wouldn’t run.’
‘I’ve changed my mind. You know it makes sense.’
**
No more than two hours later they were galloping on hired horses through woodland on the west side of the palace beyond the walls of Avignon. It was a fine day. Exceptionally so. The rains had stopped. The pines gave off a rich and heady scent while on the far side of the woods countless hills unfolded in shades of grey and palest green to the horizon.
Hubert had his favourite hawk with him, one he had brought from Meaux, and when they reached the top of a hill he let her loose with a loud cry of encouragement.
Hildegard watched as again and again the bird gyred into the cloudless sky, hovered at its zenith then stooped to its prey.
By late afternoon they were both breathless with the exertion of galloping their horses through the woods, with the exhilaration of the hunt, with the freedom outside the grim fortress of the pope’s palace and, it must be said, with the joy of being together.
‘We shall do as the friar suggested,’ Hubert told her. ‘We shall stay away until tomorrow. What do you say, my heart?’
Somehow Hildegard was persuaded. The friar was probably mad but she would not take any risk with Hubert’s life.
**
They found a remote hillside inn some miles from Avignon. Soon, replete with good country fare and a potent local wine the awkward moment of retiring to their sleeping quarters loomed. Before that, however, the conversation veered towards the purpose of the friar’s warning.
‘I’m glad to see you’ve taken it seriously,’ Hildegard teased.
‘I’m taking it more seriously than you realise. Someone wants me out of the way,’ Hubert frowned. ‘I can’t think why.’
‘Because of your imminent election as cardinal?’
‘You’ve heard about that.’
‘As has everyone in Avignon.’
‘It’s not as you might imagine.’
‘You have no idea what I imagine.’
They both lapsed into silence for a while until Hubert said, ‘Maybe this is a test as to my fitness for such a position?’
‘Whether you succumb to a test of your celibacy?’
‘More likely the opposite. They’ll want to know whether I really am one of them, as steeped in carnality, greed and corruption as they are. I’ve already shown I can’t be bribed. But to fail that test is not important. It can be used to work in their favour too. But this - you - is a test of the former, maybe? Am I going to stick to the precepts or bend happily to the prevailing mores?’
‘This is most flattering,’ her tone was acid. ‘What is your answer?’
‘I’ll let you guide me. What would you like it to be?’
She saw his hand move towards his sword almost before she heard the cracking of the door as it was booted in. Hubert was on his feet in an instant as two men came hurtling into the chamber. They were armed, she noted in dumbfounded amazement, short swords drawn, visors down. She remembered screaming.
Then one man was howling on the floor, blood pumping from a vein in his neck, and the other one was on his knees as his sword flew across the chamber, and Hubert’s blade was scraping his throat.
Hubert let out a snarl and pricked the point of his sword deeper, drawing blood.
‘I am a vassal of Pope Clement sent to test you, lord. Save me!’ the man stuttered.
Scowling, Hubert bent to pick up the fallen weapon, hefting it in his left hand with the point of his own sword still firm against his attacker’s throat.
‘I’ll keep this as proof.’
‘Don’t kill me. I’m only doing my duty.’
‘What the hell is Clement up to?’